


The Ranch

by Writing-Rammstein (writingfanfic)



Category: Rammstein
Genre: F/M, Horseback Riding, Horses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 15:40:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14060118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfanfic/pseuds/Writing-Rammstein
Summary: For the prompt: 'Hi can I have a till/reader where the have been dating for 3 years and she is from Wyoming, owns a horse and cattle ranch and the whole band comes to visit her please and thank you'Very specific prompt.





	The Ranch

You giggle, leaning against the fence, as Flake rockets past, eyes wide and legs stuck out in terror.

“Come on, Flake!”

“<I hate Americans!>” Flake screams, and you double over laughing, before jogging over.

“Whoa, whoa whoa,” you say gently, and the horse, Marigold, slows down immediately - you stroke her nose, and she whickers gently. “Whoa. It’s okay, girl. He’s an idiot.”

“You are an idiot,” Flake says grumpily, and you grin at him as Christoph trots up next to you on Lilac. He’s settled in very quickly. You’re impressed.

“Thank you for the invitation. I’m having a lot of fun.” He leans in, and you tie Marigold to the fence, helping Flake down on shaking legs, before stroking Lilac’s nose. “Can you show me the garden later? I want to see if his plants are better than mine…”

“Of course, Doom,” you grin, and he beams at you. “Where are the others?”

“Inside with Till.” You look towards the house, and smile. It’s almost the spitting image of the house you grew up in in Wyoming, and then you look up at Christoph again. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. I’m just… gonna go back. The guys will help you,” you say, offhand, and he nods - you begin to make your way back, and smile thoughtfully.

Everyone said Germany was a stupid place for a cattle ranch, but second largest cattle population in the EU told you that it might in fact not be that terrible an idea, and when you’d met a tall, handsome German man with sad, green eyes who liked the idea of living an isolated life out in the middle of nowhere - of course, ‘nowhere’ in Germany was not as big as ‘nowhere’ in America, but it was big enough for the two of you - you had relocated with no little haste.

You reach the kitchen door, and pull it open to find Richard sitting on your counters; you grab your tea towel and flick it at him, and he jumps down, grinning.

“Here she is, the cowgirl herself. Why didn’t you move him to Wyoming?” he scolds, and you snort with laughter. He hugs you tightly, and then points at Till. “You’re a fool.”

“<And you think you’re an American,>” Till says, pleasantly, before leaning in to kiss you. “<How are you, sweetheart?”

“Fine. The hands are out there helping Doom and Flake.” He grins. “You don’t wanna go riding?”

“No, thank you, _Liebchen_ , horses are frightening enough when you know what to do with them. I prefer the cows.” You sigh, and kiss him again, and Richard clears his throat.

“Still here.” There’s a knock at the door, and he opens it; Paul and Ollie are there, and he rolls his eyes. “<Jesus Christ, you’re so late you missed Flake nearly dying on a horse.>”

“<Aww, but I always enjoy Flake having a near-death experience.>” Ollie bends down to kiss your cheek. “We are so sorry that we could not make it yesterday, our flights had been cancelled…” Paul hugs you tightly, and you watch as Till embraces both of them like brothers.

“So, Mom, what’s for dinner tonight?” Richard grins, and you roll your eyes.

“You sound just like him,” you grumble, gesturing to Till, and Richard raises an eyebrow.

“He calls you Mom?”

You push him, and smile as Christoph walks in, Flake behind him walking as if somebody’s kicked him in the balls. He falls into a chair, and as the kitchen fills with excited German chattering, you sigh. This is perfect.


End file.
